


honey, I’ll come get my things but I can’t let go

by moonmotels



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Ex Girlfriends, F/F, Halloween!!!, Misty is dramatic the whole time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 09:36:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21241970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonmotels/pseuds/moonmotels
Summary: celeste from big little lies is cordelia’s ex-girlfriend and that’s really all you need to know. happy halloween!





	honey, I’ll come get my things but I can’t let go

**Author's Note:**

> do you exist? have I made you up?
> 
> virginia woolf to vita sackville-west, 1928

Crudely carved pumpkins lined the stairs to the front entrance of the academy, scattered with the brown and yellow leaves that sprung from tree branches. 

Once October 1st had hit, Cordelia bought each of her young girls a pumpkin to decorate as their own, supervising carefully so there were no accidents. And of course, she picked out a special one for Misty too. Getting in the fall spirit made her feel a little better, a little warmer inside at the notion that she was likely the first supreme to create traditions, no matter how cheesy and predictable. 

The season would likely make Misty a little glum with leaves dying off trees and lack of life in nature, but it didn’t. Not when it was now acceptable for her to curl up with Cordelia on the couch, toes cold and bodies warm under blankets, a mug of tea in her hand and her favorite horror movie on the television. 

She did so every other season, but somehow stealing all of Cordelia’s warmth now didn’t make her feel so bad.

Three weeks before Halloween, Madison and Zoe were in the living room having a heated discussion on what their costume should be. Misty comes in from the kitchen; snack in hand, and plops herself down on the loveseat to stretch her joints out with a satisfied moan. “What are y’all bickerin’ on about?”

“Your friend Madison over here wants to be a zombie cheerleader for Halloween and me her dead jock boyfriend.”

“And?”

“Did you not hear the zombie part?” 

“Zoe, shut up. It’s not like I’ll actually be dead this time. And you’ll get to hang on my arm all night, so really, get over it.”

“I still think Cher and Sonny would be a much better option,” Zoe grumbles back.

Madison ignores her. “What are you and Cordelia going to be, swampy? A feral dog and the person trying to domesticate it? Shit, wait, that wouldn’t be a costume since it’s real. Do you still have your collar somewhere?” 

”Aw, Maddie, I was hopin’ you n’ I could go as a washed up celebrity and paparazzi. Wanna guess which one of us will be the celeb?” 

The blonde inhales her cigarette that appeared out of thin air. “You disgust me. So, couples costume? Or are you two still pretending you don’t wanna fuck each others brains out?”

Misty briefly pauses to thank every god that Madison doesn’t already know the details of how they spend their nights together. 

She isn’t quite sure if what they had would be defined as a relationship, but she’d always been too afraid to push the boundaries of it in fear she’d push too far and end up spooking Cordelia off. So she was happy with what they had; those long nights with Cordelia beckoning her fingers in all the right places, the chilly fall days spent hand in hand at farmers markets, the evenings spent on the sofa pressed so deliciously close it hurt. It made her content, yes, but why did she still feel like there was something missing? 

“I dunno, I haven’t asked her yet. We don’t even have plans.” 

“Ask me what?”

Cordelia comes floating through the front door, arms ladened with bags from her favorite boutique. If she weren’t standing in front of Misty looking like a heavenly creature; smelling of orchids and sunshine, she may actually believe she’d been hallucinating. The oversized sweater on her thin frame is also most definitely stolen from Misty’s side of the closet, making her heart clench. Cordelia makes it look a thousand times better anyway.

“Hi,” she sighs dreamily, like it’s been lifetimes and not hours since they’d parted.

“Hi, beautiful,” Cordelia repeats with a sickly sweet smile. With Misty and Misty only, intimacy colors her voice. Even the simplest greeting falling from her lips sounds more like, _ ‘come home to my heart._’

Madison sticks a finger down her throat and fake gags. “Fucking kill me, please. Hell was much better than watching you two lesbos in action.”

Cordelia flutters her eyes shut and counts to five, a ritual that only occurs when Madison is near. “What did you want to ask me?” 

Misty instinctively makes room for her on the love seat, curling her feet under Cordelia’s thighs when she sits. “A costume we could do together for Halloween.” She refuses to use the phrase ‘couples costume,’ in fear Cordelia would outright refuse the concept of an idea they haven’t even broached yet.

“It’d be cute,” Zoe pipes up, noticing Cordelia’s lack of response and Misty’s small frown.

“No, I know, but I wasn’t sure you’d all like to celebrate.” They hadn’t celebrated the year prior, because, well, Cordelia was in mourning and half her girls were still stuck in the underworld. It hadn’t felt right to enjoy a holiday built on the premise of horror, no matter how fake it may be. 

Not when that horror lived in Cordelia’s heart and was very, very real.

“Halloween?” Madison’s voice went up an octave, “You mean the one night that being a witch actually has its fucking perks? Of course we want to celebrate. If I’m not blackout drunk on caramel vodka by 9pm then what’s the point?” 

“I figured the negative connotation of witches in the media and gross exaggeration of horror would turn everyone off to the idea, considering what we’ve been through.”

“Nope.” 

“Definitely not,” Zoe nods, “Didn’t you celebrate Halloween as a kid?” 

“Consider who my mother was,” Cordelia laughs, shaking her head, “I went out a few times but what little candy I got Fiona trashed, claiming that Halloween was for people who didn’t know what real horror was.”  
  
“Like her terrible wigs and cheap perfume?” Madison snarks. 

That got them all laughing. 

“What’s so funny, ladies?” Coco strolls regally into the room, a bottle of nail polish in one hand and a trashy magazine in the other. 

“Hi Coco,” they all chime. 

“We’re deciding on Halloween. What we wanna do and dress up as.” 

“You _ guys_, I’m like the queen of Halloween. I won my school’s costume contest four years in a row.” 

“Wasn’t your school library named after your dad for all the money he donated to them?” Cordelia tries her absolute hardest not to burst out laughing. 

Coco narrows her eyes and goes back to paying attention to her nails. “Not the point. Anyway, what is everyone else doing?”

“Mallory already said she’d take our younger girls out and Queenie promised to hand candy out,” Zoe says, “So that leaves us.”

“We could throw a party?” Misty suggests, only for the hope of getting Cordelia a little drunk in the privacy of her own home. 

“That’s boring,” Madison scoffs, “Besides, everyone knows the good coke is at house parties on Bourbon street. Unless Miss Supreme over here has been holding out on us.” 

“We will _ not _be consuming coke on Bourbon,” Cordelia sternly replies, avoiding Madison’s death glare, “But I do have a suggestion.” 

Everyone leans forward, ears perked up. “I have this old friend who throws extravagant parties every year. I haven’t been to one since college, but it’s a standing invitation. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if a few more people showed up.” 

Madison grins wickedly, and Misty knows her mind is working overtime to make this as painful as possible for her, “Is this ‘friend’ an old girlfriend, by any chance?” 

When Cordelia simply chooses to ignore her and turns to begin chatting with Coco about costumes, Misty couldn’t help the sinking feeling engulf her heart.

Three weeks later, she was up at one in the morning putting the finishing touches on her costume. This was her first Halloween with Cordelia, so she was determined to make it perfect. After a few weeks of deliberating and getting over the abject shock of Cordelia never having seen the Addams Family, they’d decided to dress up together as Gomez and Morticia Addams.

Misty had used her greatest weapon; batting those long eyelashes when she requested to be Gomez, partially because she likes his style and partially because she needed to see Cordelia in Morticia’s black gown and red lipstick. As it were, Cordelia was useless in denying such a simple request when those puppy dog eyes worked its magic.

On the floor, hunched over the crushed purple velvet suit she’d found at a thrift store, she sews quickly so the inseam fit her figure perfectly. It was nearly an hour later when the door creaks open behind her softly, engulfing the room in the bright light from the hallway. Cordelia didn’t need sleep as much as everyone else, not since rising to supremacy. She could hang with the moon until the early hours, rising with the sun bare faced and eternally beautiful as always. It makes Misty’s insides hurt how good she looks in the mornings. 

“Misty? What are you doing up, baby? It’s late.”

“Finishin’ this, but I’m almost done.” She ducks her head to hide the embarrassed blush at the pet name. 

Cordelia unclaspes her earrings and rid her feet from the ungodly high heels, finally slipping into her relaxed mode. It’s the thing Misty loves most about her, when Cordelia sheds this figurative outer layer of skin and becomes a completely different version of herself. A softer one; void of makeup and that wall of steel that came with being the most powerful witch on earth 

If you ask Misty, this was her favorite side of Cordelia. No one else had the luxury to see what she got to see, late at night when the house was settled like the first dusting of snow on the front lawn. 

Clad in her silk pajama set, Cordelia exits the closet and extends her hand out for Misty to take. “Come to bed, you can finish this in the morning.” She always has this lingering fear that Misty will be gone come morning, so she prefers it greatly when they fall into bed together and hold each other close.

Misty makes two more quick stitches and smiles up at her. “Don’t worry, it’s done.”

Five minutes later, teeth brushed and pajamas on, she crawls next to Cordelia and drops her head on top of a blissfully beating heart. Mindlessly, she plays with the ends of Cordelia’s soft hair. She could do this all day, wasting time doing nothing as long as they’re together. It felt organic, like their souls were meant to comfortably cohabit a warm bed, outside priorities be damned.

“Are you excited for tomorrow? I know you love the holiday.” 

Misty would hate that Cordelia knew her so well if it didn’t feel so irrevocably charming. When she simply nods; her nose brushing against the sharp edge of a collarbone, it makes Cordelia frown. “Is something bothering you? If you don’t want to do this costume with me, I promise it won’t hurt my feelings.”  
  
“No, that’s not it. I love our costume,” she concedes, “It’s the party.” 

“What about the party? It’ll be fun, Mist. I won’t force you to go, though, if you’d rather stay at home with me and hand out candy.” 

”Not so much the party as to who’s throwing it.” 

“Why are you- _ oh_,” reality finally catches up, “You’re worried about Celeste.” 

“I’m not _ worried _about her,” she responds fiercely. 

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Did you ever date her?” 

“What?” 

“I said-”

Cordelia places her hand on Misty’s flaming hot cheek, the only thing that could soothe her flare of anger in an instant. “I heard you.”  
  
“Then answer me.”

“Misty,” she says, and fuck, does that voice need to stop being so goddamn tranquil, “I’m not going to lie to you. We did date, yes, but only for a brief period of time during college. We went our separate ways in life, and I swear to you, we’re better off friends than lovers.”

“Is she beautiful?” Misty is treading water, about to just give up and let herself sink _ down down down _ to the bottom. 

“You’re my kind of beautiful.” She presses a final kiss on Misty’s lips. “If this will bother you, we really don’t have to go. Okay?”

“Okay.” 

Misty doesn’t have the heart to tell her it really wasn’t.

  
  


By 7:30pm the next day, Misty is helping Cordelia slide into her long black dress as Madison and Coco were downstairs forcing tequila shots upon her of-age girls. Stepping back to admire her, Misty was suddenly aware of the emotion behind Gomez receiving bliss from killing or dying for Morticia. It was staggering, this eternal excitement that could come from either option as she stares blankly at Cordelia in her costume. 

Fitted in a long black wig and pale makeup complete with Morticia’s signature red lipstick, Cordelia could easily play her twin. The dress had spiderwebbed lace panels on either side of the waist, giving her the gothic vibe only an Addams family member could possess. On each hand were chunky rings meant to authenticate the costume, and on her feet, sky high heels giving off Morticia’s _ don’t fuck with me _look.

Misty herself was clad in her crushed velvet vintage suit, short black wig, and a thin, wispy mustache. On her eyes was her signature smoky look, giving the perfect resemblance of Gomez’s dapper gaze. 

“Are you sure the wig isn’t too much?” 

“Can you keep it on? For later?” She let her tone drop off at the end, let the lust enchant her voice and give Cordelia a clear picture of exactly what she meant.

Cordelia exhales through her nose. “Anything you want.”

As the two descend down the stairs arm in arm, Misty could hear the low gasp that echoes through the room. The younger girls, clad in their own costumes, all fell silent as their Supreme enters the living room.

“Holy shit,” Queenie nearly drops her witch hat full of candy for trick or treaters. 

Madison, who got her wish of being a zombie cheerleader, jabs Zoe sharply in the ribs before childishly crossing her arms, “Why do they look better than us?” 

Coco stumbles up to stand in front of Cordelia, squealing in excitement, “Oh, Cords, I am _ very _ into you with this look.” She jokingly makes an obscene V formation with her fingers, putting her hand down slowly when Misty shoots her a look that could freeze Hell over and put Papa Legba out business. 

“Thank you, I think. Are you all ready?”

A tequila shot was shoved in her hand by Madison, who held her own empty glass. After she takes it gracefully, without an ounce of disgust on her face, Coco claps excitedly. “Now we’re ready.” 

In the car, Madison turns in her seat and gives Coco a once over. “What are you supposed to be again? A dead prom queen?”

“Ain’t ya ever seen Carrie?” Misty interrupts. Coco’s costume for Carrie was immaculate, right down to the fake blood and long white nightgown she’d stolen from the depths of Cordelia’s closet. 

“Um, no? Why would I watch anything I’m not in?”

“Jesus, Hollywood, we gotta work on your movie list.”

“Speaking of, who exactly are you supposed to be?” Zoe slurs quietly, already inebriated with her two drinks. “Like Cordelia is Morticia, obviously, everyone knows her.” 

“Gomez Addams,” Misty blinks slowly, shocked the two can be this incredibly clueless. “Don’t you guys hole up in ya room and watch Netflix all day? I can't believe you don’t know the Addams Family.”

“Just because Netflix is on in the background doesn’t mean they’re watching it,” Coco cuts in, patting Misty’s thigh in comfort. 

Pulling up to the party, Misty has to blink twice to make sure she isn’t seeing things. The mansion was larger than any house she’d ever seen, let alone been to, and she pokes Cordelia to get her attention. “What does Celeste do for a living?” 

“She became a lawyer and moved to California a few decades ago, got married and had kids. Last I heard her husband had died, so she gave his money to charity, moved here and sent her boys to the private boarding school.” 

Misty climbs out of the car and fidgets with her pencil thin mustache, suddenly wary of what lay ahead. She shivers despite the unseasonably warm weather. It wasn’t like her to be nervous; especially not around Cordelia, not when she didn’t give her any reason to doubt her undying devotion. She’d also never been given reason to doubt her looks, specifically not with Cordelia telling her she’s beautiful every chance she got, but something about being here; in this house nicer than a church, she feels small and unimportant.

At the front door, everyone let Cordelia lead the way inside. In the foyer were dozens of important looking guests, all decked out in costumes that look much more expensive than what Misty had seen on the racks at the thrift store. 

And when Celeste Wright comes bustling around the corner in a Marie Antoinette period costume that was _ incredibly _ well done, Misty’s little seed of self doubt sprouted until it grew and coiled tightly around her heart. 

Celeste was beautiful. Not beautiful like Cordelia - no one could reach that level of exquisiteness - but breathtaking in her own right. Under the white wig of curls, Misty can see a peek of stunning auburn hair, letting her gaze follow the curve of her brow bone down to the eyes that were the perfect shade of sky blue. Sharp features collided on Celeste’s face to give her a movie star look, the kind people pay thousands of dollars to achieve.

And here she is at a mansion in the middle of New Orleans, giving Cordelia a lingering kiss on the cheek before turning to Misty.

“You must be-“ 

“Gomez,” she practically sneers, “To go with Morticia.”

“Yes, of course, darling, I meant you must be Misty.” Even her accent was intoxicating. If she weren’t so pretty and accommodating to the gaggle of witches standing in her doorway, Misty might hate her a little more.

“Oh. Yeah, that’s me,” she gives a half hearted shrug, trying to remember to smile graciously. 

“You are just the cutest little thing.” As Celeste flits off to be the perfect host, Madison leans into Misty’s ear and murmurs, “Careful, swampy. Nobody likes a jealous bitch.”

“And nobody likes a plain ol’ bitch either,” she shot back, a little too loudly. When Cordelia gives her a quizzical look, she merely shakes her head and starts off towards the kitchen for some alcohol, Coco in tow.

Coco; who Misty loves dearly, but not at the moment, clearly doesn’t catch the daggers she was throwing at Celeste’s back. “God, if I didn’t love dick so much, I would be all over that woman,” she says, pouring a shot of some dark liquor down her throat. 

“She’s okay,” Misty clears her throat, “Not my type.” 

“Isn’t she everyone’s type?” Coco hands Misty another drink and clinks their glasses together. “Anyway, let’s get drunk, babe. Free alcohol.” 

“Don’t have t’tell me twice.”

Three shots and two mixed drinks later, Misty is beginning to care very little about her surroundings. Coco twirls around with her in the living room, the beat of the song making her heart race with the alcohol thrumming through her veins. It’s the first time she really feels carefree since returning home so many moons ago.

That all stops when Coco turns Misty in her arms and she catches a glimpse of the other side of the room.

Off in the corner, standing much too close for her comfort, were Cordelia and Celeste engaged in what seemed to be a lively discussion, if the way Celeste’s palm rests comfortably in Cordelia’s any indication.

White hot heat prickles at the base of her neck, making her hands tremble. She stopped dancing on Coco, unable to focus on anything else in the room. They look cozy. Comfortable. Like a power couple that commands the attention and envy of everyone in the general vicinity. The temperature seems to go up a hundred degrees, and if Coco’s loud voice didn’t snap her out of it, she may have actually believed she was back in Hell.

When Cordelia tosses her head of long black hair back, laughing loudly at something Celeste said, Misty sees red.

Then Madison bumps into her from behind, stumbling in her six inch heels and giggling at something a handsome man had complimented her on.

She shoves Madison off her, scowling in distaste. “Didn’t anyone tell you cheerleaders don’t wear heels?” 

“Which of your gators crawled up your ass?” She takes one look at Cordelia and Celeste in the corner, then smirks knowingly, “Oh them? The lovebirds over there have been catching up _ all _ night.”

“Mads,” Coco warns.

“No, let her chat shit,” Misty snarls, taking the half empty drink from Coco’s hand and downing it. “Lord knows that’s all she’s good at.” 

“Wow, swampy, I didn’t know all it took was a little alcohol to bring out your bitchy side. If you weren’t so annoying all the time, we might actually be besties.”

“I wouldn’t want to be your friend anyway.”

“Why’s that? Too busy shacking up with our Supreme? Oh, wait,” she grins and Misty wants nothing more than to smack it off her, “Looks like she’s moved on. Or would it be moved back, since they’ve clearly fucked before. I think I actually saw them making out earlier.”

Misty loses her cool and starts to advance towards Madison; fist raised, yelling, ”You fucking _ bitch_,” at the top of her lungs, just as the music went quiet and switched songs. 

The entire crowd went silent as the Monster Mash began playing.

It would be funny, if Misty wasn’t trembling with anger and had thirty pairs of eyes focused on her. From her peripheral, she can see Cordelia standing still where’d she been, a look of shock clouding her otherwise immaculate features.

Celeste, of all goddamn people, quickly makes her way over and gives Misty a soft smile that makes her feel pathetic. “Misty, if you’d come with me, I can get you some water and we can make this better.” 

She reaches out to take Misty by the hand, but gets smacked away. “Don’t touch me, please,” she stammers, backing from the room slowly, then breaking into a quick stride to retreat into the solace of the upstairs bathroom. The party downstairs resumes as normal, but that doesn’t matter as she begins sobbing into a hand towel that probably cost Celeste an arm and a leg. She rips her wig and fake mustache off, angry with herself that she ever thought this costume would be a stand out.

There was a soft knock on the door, and a small voice saying, “Swampy? Jesus, cut the dramatics. You know I was joking. Cordelia made me come up here and apologize, so let me in.”

“No.”

“Are you serious? It was a joke. Did they not teach you what those are in bible school? Cordelia’s clearly got a hard on for you and you only.”

With as much conviction she can muster, she cries, “Fuck off.”

The stomp of heels retreating down the hallway provides her only a small ounce of relief. 

That relief vanishes, though, when she hears another pair of footsteps coming closer to the door. Immediately recognizing them as Cordelia, she pulls her knees to her chest and rocks back and forth, wishing so badly to be anywhere but here.

“Misty? Let me in, honey. I need to talk to you.” 

She ignores the knock. “Go away.” 

“Misty-“

“Cordelia, please, go away.” 

The lock turns with Cordelia’s magic, and there she stood, all loose limbed and looking like a mirage of bountiful treasure.

“Are you okay?” she asks gently, like Misty wasn’t on the floor with mascara streaking down her face.

“Oh, yeah, I’m having the time of my fucking life.” 

Cordelia bunches her dress so she could sit on the floor across from her. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No.” 

“Can I talk?”

Misty gestures broadly towards the open floor. “Knock yourself out.” 

“I think I know why you’re upset.” When Misty barely hides her snort of disgust, she continues, “I wouldn’t have made you come here if I knew the extent of how you felt.”

“Did it feel nice, seeing her again? Does it remind you of all the fun things y’all used to do together?” 

“What? Misty- what are you talking about?” 

“You clearly belong in her circle of wealth, with all her nice clothes and important friends. Go ahead, I don’t care. Go kiss and make up with Celeste. Tell her you don't know why you brought a weird swamp rat to a party like this.” 

“Misty, _ you-” _she shakes her head, “you’re drunk. You’re not making any sense.”

“I’m making plenty of sense,” she snaps, “I’m telling you that you’re off the hook.”

“What are you so _ angry _ for?”

“I’m angry because I don’t belong in this world. Not with you, not when I’m just a stupid backwoods hick who can’t hold a candle to Celeste. So, please, go be with her. I know you want to.” The statement and the way Misty proclaims it like she means it makes Cordelia want to single handedly kill every demon that ever put these negative thoughts in her head, herself included. 

“Why would you ever assume something so cruel about yourself?” Cordelia stumbles backwards with a soft cry, her back hitting the closed door. “How could you say something like that?” 

“Cordelia, don’t drag this out. We clearly aren’t compatible. I mean look at you and then look at me. There’s no comparison.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“What even are we doin’, Delia? Are we just fucking? Are we best friends? You’re free to do as you please, with whoever you want. You don't need me.”

“I don’t want anyone else the way I want you,” Cordelia quickly sheds her walls down in an attempt to let Misty scale them, “I would lay down my fucking life for you.”

“I never asked you for that.” Misty feels a swell of anger bubble up, annoyed that Cordelia would ever consider doing such a thing. She doesn’t have the means to say that the idea of Cordelia dying in itself makes her want to die as well.

“It would be beyond my control,” her voice is thick, dripping with emotion, “Why are you doing this?”

"Because I fell in love with you like a fucking idiot,” Misty feels the lump in her throat grow thicker, “and all we do is skirt around our emotions. We’re friends who fuck occasionally. So do what you want. It doesn’t matter.” She buries her head back in her knees, salty tears blurring her vision.

The silence stretches on, enfolding the small room in a quiet hum plagued by small sniffles and the occasional loud cheer from downstairs. Misty is at her absolute most vulnerable, quietly praying Cordelia will take her advice and go back down to the party. She doesn’t want to be seen like this, teary eyed and a complete shell of who she’d been before this night ever began.

Cordelia unfortunately sits still, her chest rising and falling even though she was positive the wind had been knocked from her lungs in one fell swoop. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” the response was muffled into the fabric of her pants.

“That you’re in love with me,” her voice breaks off at the end, making Misty feel like a complete fucking failure.

“I said it doesn’t matter.”

“But it does,” her breath hitches, “you can’t just keep these things bottled up. It’ll kill you.” _ It almost killed me_, she wants to say. 

“Why not? It’s not like you feel the same. What was I, just an easy lay? I fell into bed with you so damn quick you probably didn’t know what hit ya.”

“Shut up,” she seethes. 

Misty lifts her head at the malice lacing Cordelia’s tone. Making eye contact for the first time all night, she is left trembling on the edge of a metaphorical cliff. If she’d been standing, the intensity of Cordelia’s gaze would have knocked her right off her feet and into the canyon below.

“Excuse me?”

“I said shut up. Don’t you have any idea of how much I love you? How much I adore you? Why would you ever think differently?”

“Because we-”  
  
“Because we what, Misty? Haven’t defined anything? Isn’t it enough to simply love and be loved in return?” 

Being too cowardly had always been one of her biggest downfalls. If she had told Misty sooner, had whispered sweet admissions of love under the cloak of moonlight, maybe they wouldn’t be here with a ball of jumbled emotions knotting the cord between their hearts. 

Cordelia was crying openly, unable to stop the big droplets rolling off her eyelashes. 

Misty wants to kiss them away. 

“So you-”

“Yes.”

“I need to hear you say it.” 

Cordelia takes a deep breath; put on that stoic mask of self confidence she hides behind, and whispers, “I love you. I do,” she nods, assured of this fact, “I always have, and I always will.” Dark eyes held unwavering gaze with crystal blues, like every unspoken word could be seen behind the thin veil of curtain between them. 

Misty’s world has just turned upside down, and she is suddenly a weightless being, unable to anchor herself to any one thing. There’s a faint buzz ringing in her ear, the only tangible thing reminding her she was still here in this bathroom. Still three feet away from Cordelia. The dichotomy of emotions in her body were making her dizzy. Cordelia _ loved _ her. Cordelia had _ always _ loved her. In any plane of existence, this universe and any other, she would be standing on the other side of the line waiting for her, arms outstretched. How utterly foolish of Misty to ever think differently. 

Cordelia is a strange creature, one not easily definable to the naked eye, but Misty has and will always be the only person with the ability to see underneath the surface. She knows what makes her tick, what fills her with unimaginable joy, and what gives her a reason to wake up in the mornings. It may have taken them several years, some of which spent on two separate astral planes, but they were here now. Together, spilling their hearts out onto the nice shag carpet between them.

“When did you know?” 

“I loved you as I held you in my arms when you turned to dust. When did you know?” 

“That day in the greenhouse, with-” 

“Hank, yes, I remember.”

Slowly, tentatively, Misty unfurls from her fetal position and crawls over to sit in Cordelia’s lap. Rubbing two thumbs over glistening cheeks, she rests their foreheads together. In a quiet voice, with their tears mixed in a dark stain on Cordelia’s dress, she laughs breathlessly. “What are we doing?” 

It sounds sad, like they’re here for a final kiss and swift goodbye. Like she could be taken away from Cordelia again the second they sever. It makes Misty ache, this idea that they could ever spend one more second apart. Time is precious and fleeting in their world of magic, so she tells herself to make the best of it while she still can. She would be mad at herself for falling in love with someone whose demise comes from the rise of another, but she’s so overcome with emotion right now she can feel nothing but light.

Cordelia snakes her arms around Misty’s waist and pulls her flush so there is no space between them, just how she likes it. “We’re loving each other in the only way we can manage.” There is a familiar heat emanating from Misty, and it makes her want to lean into it and let it set her limbs on fire. And if it did, then the fire erupting over her skin would match the burn humming inside of her veins that Misty ignites with a shift and glint in her eyes. 

“Will you love me forever?” 

“I had already planned on that.”

Misty hums pensively and then everything turns soft. 

If you ask Misty to describe Cordelia, that would be her definition. Her shoulder blades are soft and pliant as Misty leans forward and digs her fingertips into them, her nose is soft as it brushes against the hollow of Misty’s throat, her lips are soft and insanely kissable as they gently kiss away remaining wet tears.

And then they’re both moaning into a searing kiss, warm lips colliding so _ fucking _gently it makes Misty’s head swim. Everything with Cordelia is different than any other lover she’s taken, right down to the way she’s being held so delicately it makes her feel like a piece of fine china. She sets a languid pace, wants this heat burning low in her gut to be felt mutually; for them to burn together as one. What a way to go out, she thinks, with the world’s prettiest and most powerful witch in her arms. 

Cordelia slides their tongues together in a fervent kiss, tired of the slow, rhythmic tempo Misty has set. The taste of Misty’s tongue is enough to sustain her happiness for an eternal lifetime, but it is not enough. Not after what they’d just confessed to each other. She groans into it, let her fingers curl roughly in Misty’s hair, and dominantly pushes her backwards until she is left hovering. One hand lands beside them to keep balance, nailing Misty to the floor, a painting hung in museums for people to admire. 

“I meant what I said when I told you that you’re my kind of beautiful,” Cordelia nuzzles her face into Misty’s neck before putting her lips there and nipping at the skin. Her thumb pinpoints a nipple through the suit fabric and repeatedly circles the hardened nub. Misty’s hips jump up in response and suddenly she hungry for more of this, more of _ Misty_. Whatever she has to offer, Cordelia will accept graciously with the utmost gratitude.

Misty’s nose parts soft strands of Cordelia’s hair, smelling the cherry fragrance of her shampoo. It makes her smile wistfully, knowing these little random tidbits of information about her. “There will always be women more beautiful than me,” she replies, sounding less bitter and more earnest. 

“Do you even know how perfect you are?” She lets Misty press their lips together once more, let her bite her bottom lip and tug on it, an act of pure desire. “Other women mean nothing to me. No one could ever compare. “ 

“Promise?” 

“With my dying breath.”

They stare at each other in wonder, chests rising and falling in sync like they’d practiced this duet for several lifetimes. 

A light squeeze on Cordelia’s upper arm. “Prove it, then.” 

Misty’s pants are gone in an instant, her suit jacket roughly pulled off by two very capable hands. She is left naked on her back, craving the warmth only the confines of Cordelia’s mouth could provide. There is a hunger in her threatening to be released, a monstrous desire so strong it will overcome rational thought and take Cordelia on this goddamn floor, only a thin door separating them from a group of partygoers. But for right now, that hunger settles into a low buzz and lets Cordelia do what she does best.

Worshipping Misty’s body although it were an altar.

Cordelia drags her lips over the jut of Misty’s collarbones, down her chest, and over a nipple perked at attention. Taking it in her mouth, she flattens her tongue and laps at it until Misty’s breath stutters and she unconsciously lifts her lower half in delightful anguish.

Leaving her chest, Cordelia continues her journey down, cherishing this gift of Misty laid out like it were the first time. She lightly rakes fingernails down the plane of her stomach to watch the goosebumps arise.

“No underwear?” She looks up in amusement. 

Misty shrugs nonchalantly, “Too much effort.”

Cordelia laughs, really fucking laughs, in what felt like the first time in years. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“We’re about to fuck on a bathroom floor,” she dips her head and leaves open mouthed kisses on the inside of Misty’s thigh, earning her an exhale filled with utter euphoria. 

The unusual curse from Cordelia’s mouth sends a thrill down her spine. “I don’t see any beds in here, do you?” 

Whatever her answer would have been becomes stifled by the aching, wet heat between Misty’s thighs. She doesn’t want to drag this out, not when Misty was on her back wordlessly begging for release. Cordelia places a dirty kiss on the tip of her clit in a show of leniency, using her tongue to then gather up the wetness there. Misty sighs, arches her back, and alternates between spreading her legs and closing them so Cordelia’s head is trapped. 

Ringed fingers scramble for security at the crown of her head, guiding gently but never forcing. 

Cordelia draws back, all wet lipped and hazy, feeling only what can be described as an immortal longing for Misty. 

Sitting up on hind legs, she gathers Misty in her arms and lifts her effortlessly, placing her on the bathroom countertop. Misty hisses as the cool marble hits the back of her legs, tossing her head back at the amounting pleasure coursing through her.

Cordelia drops to the floor, cool tile on her knees reminding her they are not in their comfortable bed at home. With Misty tantalizingly spreading herself open like an offering, she finds herself unable to care. Canting her hips forward, Cordelia lets her eyes commit this look to memory. Flushed skin, trembling muscles, the silky wetness waiting there for her tongue. It makes her mouth water.

Two fingers enter warm heat roughly, catching Misty off guard with a low wail ripped from the back of her throat. 

“I like it when you get this wet for me,” Cordelia begins working her fingers hard and fast, touching her expertly, fucking her like a dream has come true, “It makes _ me _ wet.” 

A stab of arousal pangs through Misty. Getting Cordelia to be vocal and open has never been a problem during sex, but after the last twenty minutes, something about the way she says it has Misty’s soul ascending. She grips Cordelia’s shoulders, nails leaving blunt indents in her skin, a physical indication of her praise. There is one more sharp gasp and Cordelia can feel the muscles tighten around her fingers; her tongue painting excited circles over her clit. Then Misty is coming, grinding herself against Cordelia’s face with the last bits of energy she can muster. 

In the ethereal post-orgasm glow, Cordelia brings her back down to earth with roaming hands and gentle licks. The synapses in Misty’s brain are still shooting off rapid signals, making her a delirious mess in Cordelia’s arms. She guilty swipes Cordelia’s wet chin off, licking her thumb in an obscene gesture that made Cordelia want to die.

“Good?” she squeaks. 

“My soul feels like a trapped bird in a cage has been set free.” 

Cordelia briefly shuts her eyes and suppresses a laugh. That’s Misty, always coming up with a new string of words that will never fail to surprise her. 

“Can I fuck you now?” Misty’s pout is dangerously wicked, making it hard for Cordelia to keep up with the words coming from her mouth. 

“Jesus, _ fuck_, touch me.” 

If she could feel anything but the pulse of arousal shooting through her body, she may be embarrassed at how needy she’d become while Misty hikes the material of her dress up the smooth skin of her stomach. 

She’s so wound up she nearly comes with the soft press of Misty’s fingertips on her clit through the thin fabric of her underwear. Misty takes her time; always loves listening to the breathy moans she can draw out, rubbing back and forth with a delighted hum. When her fingers pull back damp, her pupils dilate before sucking them into pink lips.

Misty may still be slightly drunk, but that does nothing to stop her from saying, “Open your mouth.”

Clumsy fingers snap the waistband of panties twice before dipping inside, wasting no time going to where it was the wettest. Cordelia’s groan is stifled as Misty stuck wet fingers inside plump lips, open just enough to accommodate. Releasing them with a soft pop, she tries uselessly to pretend like tasting herself off Misty wouldn’t be the subject of her erotic dreams from now until the end of eternity.

Ripping her underwear down past her knees with ferocity, all it took was a few more inches and Cordelia is straddling Misty’s leg, dangling from where she is still perched on the edge of the countertop. As her clit finds purchase on the smooth surface, she sighs at the delicious contact. She lets her senses fill with Misty and of nothing else, whining quietly into the shell of her ear.

Misty tries to push her off her leg, “No, _ wait_, stop. Let me use my fingers on you.” 

She shakes her head, peppering wet kisses up and down the column of Misty’s throat. “‘M already so close.”

Misty gives in, one hand cupping her breast through the fabric of the gown and scratching lightly over a nipple until it stands at attention. The other hand finds purchase at the curve of Cordelia’s hip bone, aiding the slow roll of her waist. She wails, grinds her hips harder; faster, her body working on its own accord to give her what it needs most. 

As Cordelia rides her leg, Misty inches forward and sneaks her own hand down her stomach. After the image of Cordelia’s face between her legs and the sensation of slick skin gliding against her thigh, it wouldn’t take much to send herself over the edge a second time. Just as she dips two fingers over herself, Cordelia glances down and brushes her hand away to take over. She swirls her fingers through the wetness, rubbing at Misty’s clit until they’re both left rutting against each other’s bodies.

Gripping the back of her head, Misty murmurs, “Do you know how fucking sexy you are with dark hair? It makes me wanna come so hard for you.” 

Her neck is bared in an invitation Cordelia can’t refuse, putting her teeth there to coax bruises the size of nickels from the creamy, white skin. Misty’s pulse beats faster in response, excited at the prospect of being marked by someone so annoyingly radiant. 

And when Misty thrusts her knee higher and grabs her chin for a messy, desperate kiss, Cordelia’s body wracks with a decimating tremor, rocking against her a final time before it’s over. Harsh breaths fill the room as she slumps over in exhaustion and let the pleasure seep through. 

With Misty holding her so tenderly, she let the blissful feeling take over; feels it from the tips of her toes all the way to the roots in her head. Being pressed this close to Misty is a blessing, one she does not take lightly. As if remembering the task at hand, Cordelia’s fingers massage at Misty harder, pushing her to muffled orgasm seconds later.

Pulling apart and missing the contact immediately, Misty swipes remaining tears away and sniffles, “I’m sorry for bein’ so mean to you.”

“It’s alright, honey. I’m sorry for ever giving you reason to doubt my love.” They wash up before collapsing back down on the floor together, a mess of tangled limbs with two hearts and one shared feeling. 

Cordelia loves Misty in all forms and in every moment, large or small. She loves her in the mornings when their kisses are warm and deep, sweet and filled with sleepiness as Misty’s hair fans out over her pillows and the sun cascades twinkling lights through the curtains. She loves Misty at night when her eyes are heavy and full of sleep, their kisses less lethargic and more hungry as pale moonlight gives Misty that glow only she can encompass. There is no bad time to love Misty, she thinks, because the act of doing so extends her wildest dreams to the realm of reality, something she had never expected. It feels good. Right. She knows in her bones that this is what she’s been put on this earth to do.

After a prolonged drought of silence, Cordelia hears, “You asked why I didn’t tell you I love you,” then, “But why didn’t you tell me?”

“That I loved you?”

“Yeah.” 

Misty watches with sad eyes as sorrow clouds Cordelia like a blanket. She grasps her face between gentle palms and soothes, “Hey, look, it’s only me. Just you and me, right? Everything’s okay now.” 

Cordelia’s voice breaks as she speaks. In a tone barely above a whisper, she answers, “I was a coward, Misty. I am a coward. I’m plagued every day by my flaws, and I couldn’t let you be another one.” 

Misty begins crying again, setting a fleeting reminder to apologize to Celeste for ruining her nice linen hand towel. 

“If I told you that I loved you and you didn’t feel the same, it might actually have killed me. I couldn’t let you become one of my biggest mistakes. For the second time,” she adds, “I couldn’t ruin you like I did the first time you got ripped away from me.”

“But I’m here. You didn’t ruin me,” Misty can barely see an inch in front of her, “You’re the one that put me back together, piece by piece. Why do you think so low of yourself?”

“I don’t think lowly of myself, not when I’m with you. You make me feel so strong when I know I’m not.” 

“Then I guess I’ll never leave your side.”

“I could only be so lucky.”

Misty panders her with a sweet kiss that speaks volumes. 

“I should go apologize to Celeste, huh?”

“She’s probably fine, baby. You missed out on Madison flashing some guy right after you came up here. If I should apologize for bringing anyone here it’s her and Coco.” 

“Typical.” 

Just as she lovingly fixes Cordelia’s mussed hair and smudged lipstick, there was a loud bang on the door. 

“You guys, the downstairs bathroom has like fifty people in line, and I am _ not _ fucking waiting like some animal.” 

Misty stifles a giggle in her hands, peals of laughter spilling out when she takes a good look at herself in the mirror. Her hair is going every which way, small bruises dotted along her neckline, and she’s still naked save for her rings. 

Cordelia aids by snapping her fingers and clothing Misty, smoothing her own dress out so the wrinkles aren’t as noticeable. Helping Misty fix her wig and mustache, she unlocks the bathroom door and goes to reach for her hand when Coco busts in anyway and makes a beeline for the toilet. Unembarrassed in her heavily intoxicated state, she sighs in relief like she’d been denied this all evening.

“It smells like sex in here,” she comments, “How was it? I haven’t had good sex in like two fucking weeks.” 

Before Cordelia can stop her, Misty cheekily answers, “Real fuckin’ good.” She takes the following smack on her thigh with a smug grin.

“Thank God. Everyone is happy when you two are happy.” 

“What could you possibly mean by that?” 

“You’re calmer around Misty,” Coco says slowly, like explaining something to a child, “Not as high strung. _ Duh_.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” Cordelia envelopes her arms around Misty’s waist and inhales into her neck, smelling only honeysuckle and lavender. If she could bottle Misty’s scent up into a bottle, it would be the perfume she wears until the day she’s taken off this earth. 

Coco keeps them chatting until she finishes and stumbles over to the sink. Once she washes her hands, the three descend back down to the party where guests show no signs of slowing down. Catching a glimpse of Celeste in the kitchen, Misty squeezes Cordelia’s hand and motions towards her. “I’ll be right back.” 

Quickly stuffing several appetizers in her mouth to calm herself down, Misty taps Celeste on the shoulder.

“Oh, God, Misty. Are you alright? I was hoping to catch you before you left,” Celeste cocks her head to the side, genuinely concerned for her wellbeing.

“Yeah, I just wanted to say I’m real sorry about earlier. Ruinin’ your party, ya know. That wasn’t my intention.”

Celeste laughs, and _ God,_ even that sounds perfect, like a chorus of angels, “I promise you it’s all in the past. I’m pretty sure everyone forgot about it once your friend Coco started dancing on my coffee table.”

“Jesus.”

“Hey, that’s what parties are for, right?”

Misty decides right then that she might actually like Celeste.

“Would you like a drink? Some food?”

“You got any more of these little things?” Misty points to a tray with a dwindled supply of mini cheese balls and small quiches. 

Celeste winks at her like they held a secret, pulling out a tray of fresh quiche from the oven. “You’re just in time.”

Over their plates, Misty bonds with Celeste about their love for good food, admiration of classic horror, and stories of Cordelia’s semi-wild college days. She apologizes again for making a scene, giving her reasoning for troubled thoughts of self doubt.

“Misty, you must know that Cordelia and I will never be more than just friends. I really think our fling was just an excessive way to rebel against her mother.”

A soft chuckle, “Yeah, that sounds like her. I trust you, but I dunno, you’re just so pretty.”

“I don’t think she’ll ever have eyes for anyone else, not with the way she looked at and talked about you.”

“She talked about me? What did she say?” Misty presses, feeling a swell of pride bubble up.

“That woman adores you,” she answers, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she proposed to you in the middle of the swamp you lived in. I’m sure you know of her aversion to anything larger than a dog.”

“She’s such a big baby,” Misty can’t help the semi-smug grin, “But that really wouldn’t bother me none.”

By the time Cordelia came to find her, they’d made plans to have lunch at a nice Italian cafe in the French Quarter next week before seeing an old black and white film at the cinema. 

Hanging back for a moment, Cordelia let the relief wash over her. She’d never known a love like this. And now, she thinks, she’ll never want to know a different one. Not when Misty provides her with everything she deserves.

Coming up beside the pair, Cordelia lets her hand possessively find the dip of Misty’s waist. “Hi, my Gomez.”

“Hey, Morticia. Are you ready to leave?” 

“Madison’s been promising half a million dollars to whoever can out drink her, so I think we should go before someone actually tries.”

“Yeah, remember what happened last time she did that?”

(Madison had, in fact, been out drunk once and lost a cool hundred thousand.)

She turns back to Celeste, “Thanks for letting us crash your party. I’m really looking forward to next week.”

“Likewise, Misty. Call me to set up a time.” The two embrace.

Celeste then hugs Cordelia, pulling her close and murmuring, “You've got a good one, Dee.”

Cordelia watches as Misty pops two more quiche in her mouth with rapid succession. “Yeah, I really do.”

Corralling everyone in the car proves a hard feat, especially with an extremely inebriated Madison and the guy begging Coco to let him come home with her. Cordelia gives him a firm no when she notices his wedding ring, pushing everyone out the door. Sometimes being the Supreme has its perks when all it took was an icy look.

In the backseat, quiet save for Coco’s off-key singing, Cordelia rests her head on Misty’s shoulder. She tugs at a strand of hair fallen from Misty’s wig, grinning when it makes her look down.

“Whatcha smilin’ for?”

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m in love with this crazy woman. Have you seen her? She’s got this wild blonde hair, big blue eyes, and an appetite the size of a small country.” 

“She sounds familiar. And really fuckin’ hot. You should marry her one day.” 

“I think I might.” Cordelia captures her chin with a nimble grasp, kissing her once, then again in this darkened backseat. 

All three of their friends in the front row groan in mock horror, pretending as though Misty and Cordelia’s display of love is offensive to them all personally.

It feels almost like Cordelia has known Misty for a thousand lifetimes, has met her in every town, city, and country. Cordelia can feel Misty in her bones, prehistorically, anciently, like the atoms that make up her form have been there since before the beginning of time. She can’t stop missing her, even though she was here, pressed up against her side. Maybe she will never stop missing her. Somehow, that doesn’t bother her, not when the thrill of being in Misty’s presence after a period apart is a permanent fixture now. 

Deciding that she doesn’t care who can see her heart leaping from her chest, Cordelia kisses Misty until it felt like the sun had rose and spread its warm light through the veins in her body. If Misty can’t find the light within herself, had lost the ability to see a flicker on her worst days, Cordelia would set herself on fire to burn bright for her. Today, tomorrow, always. 

The only darkness she will ever allow into Misty’s life is the night, and even then, she will give her the moon. 

Cordelia had loved her when she was dust, and she will love her as a whole, forever.

**Author's Note:**

> many many thanks to britt, alyx, alyssa, and ix who listened to me talk about this shit show for literally 3 weeks. love y’all 🙃


End file.
